Another Debt to Pay
by dawnbrightstars
Summary: Natasha sacrifices herself in the middle of a mission to keep Clint safe. Now that he's recovered, he's trying to get her back. annnnnd still don't own avengers.
1. Chapter 1

Natasha sacrifices herself in the middle of a mission to keep Clint safe. Now that he's recovered, he's trying to get her back.

His vision was blurry. He could make out the hazy form of Natasha standing with her back to him. Shadows danced around in the corner of his eyes. He was worried about them. He feared them. He wanted to fight them. But he couldn't get up. Pain radiated from his stomach.  
Natasha's voice came from very far away. "If I go with you, will you promise to let him go?" No, he tried to say. Nat, no. His tongue was too thick to speak.  
A wave of murmurs washed over him, and he almost lost consciousness trying to distinguish them. When he opened his eyes again, Natasha was crouched in front of him. "I called Agent Hill. She's coming to get you."  
"Nat," he protested weakly. Natasha shook her head and put her hand on his cheek.  
"Hey, it's ok," she soothed, but there was uncertainty in her grey-blue eyes. "It's going to be ok." A hand appeared on her shoulder and dragged her back. Clint struggled to stand, to lift his bow, to do something to help her as her hands were tied behind her back and she was forced to her knees. His eyes drifted shut as he heard that unmistakable sound of a gun hitting flesh and flesh hitting ground.  
Clint sat up in bed, gasping for breath. He looked around the dark hotel room, trying to convince himself that it wasn't real, that it was only a dream. His breathing slowed, and he looked to his right as if searching for Natasha. His heart plummeted as the empty space triggered vivid memories of the last month.  
She was gone, and it was his fault.  
He had to get her back.  
Realizing that sleep was impossible, he threw the covers off and went to the balcony, frowning at the glittering city skyline. It wasn't long ago that he had held her in his arms, looking at the same city from the top of the Avengers Tower. It was the night before everything went wrong. They were just finishing up their week-long vacation when a SHIELD agent contacted them with the mission. It was nothing more than a drugs bust, they said. Shouldn't last more than a day. But when they burst into the warehouse, it was a terrorist group that greeted them with open arms and machine guns.  
And where did that leave them? The traitorous agent was imprisoned and facing charges for treason, Clint gained a gut wound and three weeks of bed rest, and Natasha was nowhere to be found.  
Tony had spent the past several days meticulously combing New York for some sort of clue as to where they had taken her, with no such luck. Now that Clint had finally been released as fit for duty, he assumed full responsibility for the mission.  
I will find you, he promised the not-quite-silent night. And I will tear them apart.

…


	2. Chapter 2

…

Natasha woke up slowly, letting soreness seep into her bones instead of allowing the pain to hit her all at once. She blinked the grit out of her eyes as more dust trickled down from the ceiling of her cell. The hand length window in the door only let in enough light to define the walls, though there wasn't much to define. All in all, the space was only the size of a queen-sized bed, and if she stretched her arms up Natasha's fingertips could barely brush the ceiling. Everything, including the door, was solid concrete and even when she was taken from her prison she felt the weight of several meters of earth hanging over her head.  
At first it was bearable. The hunger hadn't set in yet, and they tended to leave her to herself. Then they started asking questions, and when she didn't provide them with the information they sought they began the drugs. As the days ticked away she began to feel more or less like a canary in a mine. They were just waiting to see if she would die.  
What little information she had she committed to memory, from their location (New York) to their plans for her. As far as she could tell, they planned to use her as a bargaining chip since their interrogations always stopped short of mutilating damage. But why her? She had to ask herself. Faced with the choice between saving her and surrendering to the terrorists, she had no doubt that SHIELD would simply hand over her resume. There had to be something she wasn't seeing.  
The door swung open and hit the wall with a bang, causing her to flinch. Dim light spilled into the cell, silhouetting three very large men. Two of them stood at the door, fingering the triggers of their guns.  
The man that Natasha had deemed to be the boss stepped closer, his boots making an ominous clump on the cement floor.  
"Good morning Natasha," he greeted in a singsong voice. He wore a turban that masked all his features except for his glittery black eyes. Despite the cliche "terrorist" outfit, his accent was completely American.  
"Do you know what day it is?" he asked. Natasha kept silent, but her heart sank. "Another five days," he elaborated gleefully. He gripped her wrist- the one that was not chained to the wall- and turned her arm so that the six shallow cuts were facing up. She struggled weakly and only on principle, knowing he would hurt her either way. Pulling her own hunting knife from his belt, he traced the exposed skin before etching a new tally mark. It felt like a paper cut in comparison to all her other hurts.  
Slipping the knife back, the boss held his hand out to one of the guards, who drew a syringe filled with a strange purple liquid.  
"Day thirty five" the boss deadpanned before plunging the needle into her arm

**…**

The Stark Tower used to remind Clint of a power plant: painfully obvious, and no one quite knew exactly what it was used for. Now that it belonged to the Avengers, he had come to think of it as home. It was only after Natasha had been taken that he realized it hadn't been the tower.  
After a long and silent elevator ride, Clint raised his hand to knock on the penthouse door. The door swung open immediately, held open by Pepper Potts.  
"Agent Barton," she smiled. "Please, come in." she stepped aside to let him enter, closing the door softly behind him.  
"Tony!" she called as she led Clint into the sitting room. Clint tried not to look around too much; he was staying at a hotel for a reason.  
"Oh, hey, Hawkeye!" Tony greeted as he waltzed into the room, making a beeline toward the massive bank of computers. "Come and take a look at this." Clint followed, looking over his shoulder at what appeared to be a map of underground New York City.  
"A few weeks back we noticed that a bunch of firearms were disappearing. I planted a few trackers and look where they turned up."  
A knot of tunnels lit up and flashed red. Clint reached behind him as if to grab an arrow, even though he didn't have his quiver.  
"Let's go," he said, and started to turn before Tony caught his arm.  
"You know I'm a big fan of the no-plan plan, but have you even stopped to think about this?"  
"Have I thought about how it's all my fault Tasha is captive? That she might even be dead? Yes, Stark. I have thought about it."  
Tony glanced over to where Pepper was making lunch. "I'm sorry Hawkeye. It's a suicide mission"  
"I know." He took a stack of files related to the terrorist group and left without another word.

…


	3. Chapter 3

_It was too hot, too bright, and Natasha felt fear flood her veins. Flames climbed wooden walls, flicking out to sting her exposed skin. Suddenly the room was smaller- an arm's span from wall to wall, and the door disappeared into the fire. Screams filled her ears, familiar screams, and she sank to her knees as images flashed through her head. Dead. All the them, dead._

_The scene changed, and a line of people stood in front of her. They stared down at her, with dead, damning stares, blood dripping from their necks and chests. A stone dropped into the pit of her stomach._

_"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know."_

_All of them raised their pale, cold hands in unison, their clothes rustling like ghosts and dead leaves. Then they stopped, and one stepped forward. He was dressed all in white, his skin bloodless and his eyes dull._

_"You killed me," Tony Stark snarled. "You closed the portal. It's your fault. All your fault."_

_"But you survived!" Natasha cried. "You fell through at the last minute, I saw you!"_

_"Your fault!" he screamed, and the back of his hand struck her jaw with a loud crack. Her vision blurred for a second, and then it was the Hulk who was bearing down on her. She searched his eyes for a sign of Banner, but all she could find was a storm of rage. He wrapped his meaty green hand around her neck and lifted her into the air._

_Two gunshots ripped through the silence and the Hulk jerked forward. He dissipated into smoke and Natasha slammed to the ground._

_"Nat?" Clint's familiar voice pulled the fear away. His hand came down on her arm and helped her into a sitting position. "Tasha, what did they do to you?" She shook her head and his arms came around her, warm and strong and safe. She allowed herself a second- one second- to let the feeling wash over her, and then she started to pull away. Clint tightened his grip._

_"What are you doing?" she asked as she struggled to free herself. Suddenly his hold was violent instead of comforting._

_"What I should have done a long time ago," he breathed into her ear, and plunged a knife into her back._

Natasha opened her eyes to her dark cell. Her spine prickled with imaginary pain, and fear still spread ice through her blood. She blinked at the blurry terrorists.

"Fear," she said, her voice harsh and ragged. "That one was fear."

…

"It's suicide Pepper," Tony sighed. The moonlight from the window cast soft shadows across the room, cloaking Pepper in darkness. Her back was to him but he could still read the anger in her stiff stance. He sat on the bed and bit back the words of anger- words that accused Hawkeye of selfishness, stupidity.  
"You have too," she choked.  
"I'll die. He'll die. We will all die." His voice was harsher than he meant it.  
"You didn't care when you flew into the portal!" she protested. Her voice wavered for a second. It made Tony pause. They never talked about that moment- the moment of his almost death.  
"That was different," he said detachedly. "That was the world. This is… this is Clint. And Natasha. Two agents versus a massacre."  
The noise of the city hummed a hundred floors beneath them. It was as silent as New York could be. Tony sighed and laid back on the pillows.  
"What would you do if it were me?" She spun around, facing Tony with burning eyes. "What if it were me stuck down there, being forced to go through God knows what?"  
Fear blossomed in his chest as his imagined the destruction he would have brought down on the world had Pepper been the one taken.  
"I would stop at nothing to get you back."  
Pepper knelt on the edge of the bed and found his hand despite the darkness. "Then why do you think Agent Barton is any different?"

…

The sewers smelled worse than Clint thought they would. Still, it didn't bother him. Not much could bother him, really. Except knowing that Natasha was somewhere down there too.  
That bothered him as much as a bullet in the gut.  
He checked the map again, tracing the route with his finger. Two lefts and a right, and he would be there. He ran through the plan in his head. It was simple, really.  
Find Nat.  
Try not to die.  
Suddenly he could hear voices. Or, rather, the promise of voices; the hum that told of human life. He paused and notched an arrow; it was one of the boring, regular ones but he wasn't exactly going for style.  
Firelight flickered across the slimy walls, almost too faint to notice had he not been on edge. He peeked around the corner and smiled. The two guards- only two, insulting- were lined up perfectly. If he aimed it just right… pssst. Perfect. Both guards fell to the ground with a slight thump. Two birds with one stone, Clint thought.  
He ran silently to the entrance, skidding to a halt in full view of a squad of armed soldiers. There was a moment of stunned confusion, and then the gunshots started. Four bodies dropped in the first breath, hit by one of Clint's arrows or caught in the crossfire. A bullet nicked his arm, a hot stinging pain that was more of an annoyance than anything. The rest of the men fell, except for one, scrawny and spotted- no more than a teenager. His gun hand was unsteady, and when he squeezed the trigger there was only the clicking sound that signaled an empty mag. Before he could reload, he was shoved against a wall with Clint's arm pressed against his throat.  
"Where is she?" he growled, murder burning in his eyes.

"Where is who?" the guard stammered, sweat building on his brow. Clint's hand went to the knife Agent Hill had recovered from the site Natasha had been taken. He had given it to her for Christmas the year before.

"Agent Romanoff, the Black Widow." Clint struggled to keep his voice low. Somewhere in his mind he acknowledged the need for stealth, though there was a large part of him that said kill them, kill them all. There was a brief pause as the guard struggled to find his words.

"Two rights then a left," he gasped. Clint released him and the man dropped to his knees, his breath heavy with relief. His relief was short lived, however, and in a swift movement Clint's gun hit his head and he crumpled to the ground.

The rest of the hallways were empty. No running steps, no cries of alarm. It was almost too easy. Had it been any other day, he would have slowed down, thought it out, regrouped. But because it was Natasha, he kept sprinting.

…


	4. Chapter 4

"Banner get your shit together," Tony said the minute Bruce picked up the intercom. "Green hulking rage monster would be great right about now."

"Is the thing with Clint?"

"This is most definitely the thing with Clint."

"Be right up."

The Avengers, minus Clint and Natasha, gathered at the top floor of the Stark tower. Tony had already laid out a plan of attack. Several plans, actually, but there was one he was really fond of.

"Flashy," Steve commented.

"You midgardians seem to be overly eager to utilize your explosives," Thor observed. Bruce was silent for a minute, and the others all waited for his opinion. They knew that without him it was unlikely that the mission would be a success.

"Your MO does seem to be go big or go home," he said finally.

"What's the fun in going home?" Tony grinned.

…

Why isn't she here? She should be here, Clint thought, desperately reopening all the doors and finding only empty cells. Oh god. She can't be-

"Looking for something, Hawkeye?"

He whirled around, an arrow already notched and pointed at the man's chest. His face was hidden by a turban, and all Clint could tell from his voice was that he was American.

"Where- is- she?" Clints voice shook with barely suppressed rage.

"Alive," the man promised. "So do not test me."

"Who are you? What do you want?"

"Who I am isn't important," the man snapped. "What I want, well, you're the spy. You tell me."

Clint tightened his grip on the bow. "You don't want information, if she's still alive after thirty five days. Nat would rather die before giving in to torture."

"Nat," the man mused. "How well you know her. More than just a colleague, I see."

"You haven't offered a trade, so it's nothing from SHIELD," the archer continued, ignoring him. "There've been no major attacks on New York, no power plays. You're down in a sewer, hiding. Why?"

"Ok, I'll throw you a bone. Super soldier," the terrorist whispered. Clint stilled.

"You want the serum."

"A serum, really. Anything to throw the government for a loop," the man laughed.

"You're crazy. You can't replicate it from her DNA, the serum wasn't even used on her."

"She screams for you," he laughed evilly. "Barton or Hawkeye, most of the time, Clint when it's particularly bad."

"Shut up!" Clint yelled, drawing back on the arrow so hard his fingers touched his ear.

"I didn't find a serum to create heroes," he continued thoughtfully. He drew a syringe filled with a clear liquid and held it up to the light. "I found a few to bring them down, though. Would you like to see?"

"I'd really rather not."

"Pity. The effect on Agent Romanoff was quite entertaining." He raised his hand, and a dozen hooded figures appeared on both ends of the corridor. "Detain him."

Before anyone else could draw their weapons, Clint fired an arrow at the leader's chest, only to have it blocked by a suicidal soldier. The corridor exploded into action, and Clint was forced to drop his bow in favor of hand to hand combat. Luckily for him, the tight space made it difficult for all of them to attack at the same time. No matter how many he killed, more pressed forward. Everything became a blur of black, colored occasionally with blood.

It may have been Clint's imagination, but he slowly became aware of an electric guitar. Risin up, back on the street… Ok, he thought as he delivered another disabling punch. Officially batshit crazy.

Went the distance now I'm back on my feet, just a man and his will to survive. Now the terrorists were pausing, and he managed to knock out two with minimum fuss as they looked around for the source of the music. Maybe not crazy. And suddenly the music was blasting so loud that the fight stopped completely.

It's the eye of the tiger, it's the thrill of the fight, rising up to the challenge of our rivals.

"Stark!" Clint shouted, grinning. "Get your lazy ass in here."

"I resent that," a voice replied, and then the hall lit up with fire as several of the men in black dropped to the ground. Thor, Captain America and Ironman appeared, all red and gold and blue amidst a sea of shadows. "You didn't think we'd let you get all the fun?"

Steve muttered, "I don't see how this is fun."

"WE WILL NOT LET THE HAWK FACE THIS ALONE," Thor thundered, swinging his hammer and taking out several men.

"Where's Banner?" Clint asked after wrenching his knife out of a terrorist's gut. Right on cue, a roar shook the tunnels.

"We learned he doesn't do well underground," Tony said, and despite the mask everyone could hear the grin in his voice.

The Hulk was too big to fit in the corridor; instead he pushed his arms through as far as they would go and batted aside as many men as he could reach. Soon the terrorists were scuttling away like insects, and it reminded Clint of Loki's analogy between an ant and a boot.

The gang took a minute to assess injuries; except Clint, no one had anything more than a few bruises and scrapes. After handing the archer a commlink, Stark quickly took command of the situation.

"Cap, take Thor and Banner and search the tunnels for stragglers. Try to keep some alive for questioning. I'll search for any type of lab. Barton, find Romanoff and get her out of here. We have an evac team waiting above ground."

"Because I never would have thought of that on my own," Clint muttered, turning away from the group and reaching a hand up to touch his arrows. Louder, he added, "Leader is an American male, masked, my height, age unidentifiable. Capture him alive."

"We shall call you the Fellowship of the Ring," Tony intoned in his best Gandalf voice, and Clint's heart clenched at the mention one of Nat's favorite movie. If she were here, she'd probably be calling him Legolas.

The team went their separate ways, the silence suddenly filled with purpose and determination. Clint closed his eyes and visualized the layout of the tunnels. It was to a certain extent a labyrinth, with many overlapping tunnels and several layers. He sighed. Now was not a good time to remember his claustrophobia.

The first level was deserted aside from a few terrorists who hadn't yet been found by the other Avengers. Clint took them out almost robotically, growing more frantic as each room turned out empty. What if… his rebellious inner voice started before he pushed the thought out of his mind. She has to be here somewhere.

…


	5. Chapter 5

"Jesus," Tony's voice crackled over the commlink, no doubt having found the lab. "What the hell were they playing with?"  
"They wanted a serum," Clint replied, kicking open yet another door only to find a storage closet. "Either to create Superman or bring him down."  
"They could bring down a herd of elephants with a vial this stuff. And a whale shark. And maybe the Hulk."  
The archer stopped dead. "Please tell me you're joking." Oh god, they used this on Natasha.  
"You're right, I think it might take the entire vial for Banner."  
"Stark!"  
"Fine. Maybe two."  
The commlink went silent, and Clint assumed Tony had found something interesting to blow up. He wasn't surprised when the walls shook as he was going down the stairs, but it did make him a bit nervous.  
"Dammit Stark!" Steve yelled in Clint's ear. "Can you wait until we're all out before bringing down this section of New York?"  
"That wasn't me," Tony said in a hushed voice. There was a pause. "Shit. Out. Out. Everyone out."  
"I have to find Nat," Clint declared and then cursed. Another empty room. "How much time do we have?"  
They waited while Tony made his calculations. "Not long. There's a self destruct systemed wired through the walls. I can stall it for ten minutes at the most."  
"Grab a few people to question and get out," Steve ordered. "Clear the streets above as best you can."  
"I'm not leaving until I find her!" the archer protested. Another tremor wracked the tunnels.  
Yet another hooded figure careened around the corner, most likely fleeing the impending collapse. He almost ran right into Clint in his haste to get away, only to be pinned up against the wall. Clint didn't even have to ask for him to gasp, "Two rights." He shoved the man away, no longer caring who lived and who died.  
There was only one door in this hallway, shiny and new and not too hard to unlock. Natasha was curled up on the grimy floor with her hands locked behind her head, no doubt to protect against any falling debris.  
"Nat?" Clint asked, kneeling down and gripping her shoulder. At the sound of his voice she slowly unraveled, blinking up at him disbelievingly. His heart clenched in anger at the sight of her sallow skin and half-dead eyes. "Tasha, what did they do to you?" She flinched, and something sharpened in her expression, something almost like fear.  
"I'm stuck," she rasped, raising her arm to yank on the chain that held her to the wall. It only took one bullet to blast it loose.  
"Now you're not," Clint smiled, sticking his gun back into its holster. He gathered her in his arms, frowning at how light she was.  
"You got three and a half minutes Barton," Tony reminded him.  
"On my way out." He stumbled as the floor rocked again, but managed to stay on his feet. After a few wrong turns, he found what looked like a maintenance hatch; it seemed to lead straight to the surface. Shifting Nat into a fireman's carry, he began to climb, counting down the seconds in his head.  
A two minutes.  
He started banging on the manhole covering, hoping one of the others would hear him.  
A minute and a half.  
There was a scraping sound, and suddenly he was blinking at the bright sunshine and a familiar blond demigod was carefully lifting Natasha off his shoulder.  
"I have the Spider and the Hawk," Thor rumbled at a nearby SHIELD agent. In no time they were packed into a helicopter, Natasha curled up in Clint's lap and him absentmindedly stroking her hair.  
Thirty seconds.  
The main rotor blades were picking up speed; they felt the lurch of the landing skids leaving the ground.  
Five.  
They were high enough to see the barricades set up by SHIELD and the endless stretch yellow taxis as traffic screeched to a halt.  
Four.  
The pilot was gripping the wheel so hard her entire hand was white.  
Three.  
Clint could see Steve's lips moving in a silent prayer.  
Two.  
Even the sound of the helicopter faded away as everyone held their breath.  
One.  
Nothing happened. Over the commlink, they heard the unmistakable sound of Tony Stark . As if an entire block wasn't about to go crashing down around him.  
"Oh this is too good," he crowed.  
"What happened, Stark?" Agent Hill asked, clearly frustrated yet at the same time a bit relieved.  
"I love when people are clever and arrogant. See, they wired the walls with explosives and then separately buried a timer. The timer and the bombs aren't connected. They had a few firecrackers in the floors to make the earthquake but that was it. No boom."  
"Why?" Maria sighed, as the helicopter turned toward the hospital.  
"That way they would have time to clear the labs while the government is running for their lives."  
"You're right," Clint said, finally tapping into his comm. "I love arrogance."

…

ok just the epilogue left

Please review! i have no idea what i'm doing!


	6. Chapter 6

…

Natasha was done with the color white. All she wanted to do was return to the Avengers Tower; even though her room was practically spartan at least it was her. There were clothes peeking out from hastily shut drawers and ammo cartridges scattered haphazardly across her desk. And then there was Clint's room, which was most decidedly him, but familiar to her all the same.  
They wouldn't let her out of bed (white sheets, by the way). There wasn't a window to look out of (the walls had white paint). The steady drip of the IV was all that filled the silence (incidentally, the fluid was slightly clouded so it appeared to be white).  
The door opened slowly and Clint stuck his head in, two coffees in his hand. "They said you can try to drink something other than water now," he grinned when she raised an eyebrow. After handing her the cup he sat down his customary plastic chair (also white) next to her bed. He laughed at her blissful expression as she took a cautious sip.  
"You know what would be great right now?" she asked, closing her eyes and leaning back on her pillows.  
"Shawarma," they both finished. Clint smiled apologetically.  
"No solid foods yet."  
There was a pause and even with her eyes closed Natasha knew he was frowning, probably thinking about what she said when Fury came to debrief her.  
I got a bottle of water every week- eighteen ounces for seven days. The only food they gave me was drugged to test if the serum would work orally.  
"Stop," she sighed.  
"I wasn't-"  
"Yes, you were. Just don't think about it."  
Clint's hand found hers and he absentmindedly rubbed familiar circles with his thumb. "It's kind of hard not to think about."  
"Friendly reminder that you got shot first," she teased, and then winced as a shadow crossed his face. They had been avoiding that topic until that point.  
"And you sold yourself," he grunted.  
"You were dying!"  
"How do you think I felt, sitting in a hospital bed knowing that you were going through hell and there was nothing I could do about it? They strapped me down, Natasha, because I kept trying to get back to you." Clint squeezed her hand. It wasn't really an argument. No one was yelling or trying to get the upper hand. There was nothing to win.  
Natasha looked away and whispered, "I was trying to pay back a debt."  
She still thought like that. After all this time, all of his assurances that they didn't need to keep track, his arguments that she had already saved his life enough times, she still thought like that. And it broke his heart.  
Clint brought her hand to his lips and pressed her scarred knuckles to his cheek, murmuring, "There is nothing to repay." After standing up to place the styrofoam cups on the little white table in the corner, he dimmed the lights. Careful not to jostle her body, he pressed a simple, chaste kiss to her lips. They both knew it wasn't exactly what they wanted, but it was enough to know that the other was there.  
"Where are you going?" she asked when he pulled away.  
"Right here," he murmured, settling back into the hard plastic chair. "Go to sleep, Nat. I'll see you in the morning."


End file.
